


To Lead A Horse

by VolxdoSioda



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), M/M, Non-Sexual Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Elias receives a visitor, and a pleasant surprise.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 7
Kudos: 127





	To Lead A Horse

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Elias/Jon, sexual or non-sexual touching, subspace.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink.

But what you _can _do, and what Miss Hussaine and Miss King _have done, _is hurt the horse so badly it never trusts any trough of water near you, and will flee to the nearest outside source to drink. Until it is sure it is _safe, _away from the harmful hands of anyone who might want to cause it pain.

So of course it makes sense that Jon would seek him out.

Elias has been made practically obsolete in terms of threats by now. Sitting behind bars, unable to hurt anyone, or really do anything other than sit there, and occasionally send his lackeys on fetch quests from afar. But he isn't pinning anyone to the wall, or threatening to kill them if they don't obey. Compared to the things the others have been doing in his absence, he's clearly the lesser of the evils.

When Jon staggers in, looking gaunt and hunted and so tired Elias suspects a strong wind will knock him over, the guard lets him in the door without a word. He's been Compelled, they all have, to not see Jonathan Sims, and to delete the footage of his visit, and replace it with the static image of Elias sitting in his cell reading a book that he's already provided. Elias needs time to work, to gently untangle the threads of misery the others have been piling atop his poor Archivist, and he can't do that if he gets interrupted because of visitation times or what have you.

"Jon, what a pleasant surprise. Sit down, please, you look exhausted."

Jon all but collapses into the chair in front of him. Sways, and for a moment his already pale face seems to go even grayer. Elias, without thinking, reaches out, laying a hand on his shoulder, fingers barely brushing the strip of bare flesh that is his collarbone. "Oh Jon."

Of all the things Elias has been expecting, it is not for Jonathan Sims to shudder and all but melt into his hands. Elias keeps the surprise off his face, and reaches out, brushing the back of his knuckles against Jon's forehead, as if checking his temperature. Jon's eyes flutter shut, the softest murmur of Elias' name escaping his lips. 

It is a heady feeling indeed, to realize that Basira Hussaine and Melanie King and even Martin Blackwood have pushed and pushed and _pushed _his Archivist so far, that he's all but putty in Elias' hands. That all the machinations and plots he's weaved during his time here, made to coax Jon around to seeing his side of things, might not even be _needed. _The man is clearly desperate for an anchor, hunger dropping his guard even further, his Archivist abilities automatically seeking out another connection to the Eye. One that is equal, if not stronger.

Elias is both of those things, and he uses them now, dropping his voice down to a soothing murmur, even as he makes his next words an _order._ "Tell me what you need, Jon. And be honest. Nobody can hear us, or see us, I promise."

Jon's leaning forward in the chair, chasing after Elias' hands, seemingly unaware of what he's doing. "Need you back at the Institute," he says, and Elias strokes fingers across his cheek, listening to the pleasant little sigh Jon makes when he does. "Can't get anything done. Peter's taken Martin, and Daisy's too tired fighting the Hunt to help."

"And the others?"

"Don't trust me." There's more there, Elias knows. More than just _not trusting him. _He knows precisely what's there, but he's going to keep his mouth shut, because Jon is shuddering and sighing and relaxing more and more in his hands, slowly letting Elias tug him out of his chair to be closer. When his knees hit floor, he doesn't even realize, just keeps looking up at Elias through those half-lidded eyes that are _begging _so sweetly. 

Elias has never been able to resist Jon. Certainly not like this. Not when he's pliant and warm and obedient, letting Elias pull him until he's practically in his lap, laying his head down onto Elias' shoulder as Elias leans back onto the couch, resisting the urge to throw back his head and _laugh. _

"Very well," he says, after a moment of quietly petting down Jonathan's spine. There's a kind of low, white buzz floating through his mind, leaving it wide open, and when Jon raises his head, his pupils are blown, and his gaze is distant. Pleasure now where there has only been pain before. He's certainly not thinking about the Archives right now, only about _Elias,_ and what he needs to do to make Elias happy. It's an ego boost like no other. "I'll see what I can do, my Jonathan. But I think for now, I would very much like for you to rest. You will feed off me later, and we'll get you back to the Institute."

Jon nods, and obediently lays his head back down on Elias' chest, breathing in and out as Elias strokes up and down his back. 

_Game, set, match, _he thinks, letting a smirk curl his lips. _And to the victor... the spoils._


End file.
